


At The End of the Day

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: "hands off my hubby!", Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Fingerfucking, Insecurity, M/M, tag suggestions?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Hobbit Kink Meme:</p><p>“After being named Consort under the Mountain, Bilbo still has to deal with men and women from the court wanting in Thorin’s royal pants. At the end of the day, though, when they unwind together in bed or a bath, Bilbo knows that Thorin is his and his alone.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	At The End of the Day

It’s no secret that almost every Dwarf in Erebor’s reestablished court that Thorin, King under the Mountain, is desirable. Not only is he King, which is emphasized to his political prowess, a warrior’s prestige, and more wealth than anyone knows to do with, he is handsome…very handsome. In fact, if he wanted, he could have had anyone in the court.

And many would stare at his Consort with curious disdain. His consort was not even a Dwarf! That the King broke such a taboo is unfathomable! Sure, succession wasn’t a problem, given the Crown Prince and his brother were next in line, but what was it about this creature—this _Hobbit_ —that stole the King’s heart?

What was it about this creature that had no beard, pointy ears, and feet far too large and _covered in hair_? What was it about this Hobbit that could ever attract their great and beautiful King?

Needless to say, several lords and ladies were convinced that the King was not really in love with the Prince Consort, but owes him a life debt and _marrying_ the Hobbit was simply the only way he could think of to repay it.

Honestly, Bilbo thought that quite insulting. Why would anyone marry for any reason other than love? Finding, more than once, several Lords and Ladies throwing themselves at Thorin made him question his worth more than once. He had enough doing so on the adventure he met Thorin on, thank you very much. And his self confidence was quite low because of the different standards of beauty among Dwarves. The difference between Hobbits and Dwarves was vast, sure, but that was no excuse!

“Perhaps, your majesty…”

Bilbo stopped, seeing a lady beside Thorin. She touched his arm. “You may find relief for a moment at the ball next week? All the work you do must be stressful…”

Bilbo ground his teeth and squared his shoulders. He marched over. The lady spied him and removed her arm, her smile faltering. Thorin turned to Bilbo.

“Is it time already?”

“Yes. Gandalf will be here any moment,” Bilbo said. She walked away. “What was that about?”

“No idea. She wanted to talk about next week’s ball in honor of Erebor’s re-founding.”

“Bollocks,” Bilbo hissed. “She was figuratively in your lap.”

Thorin snorted. “If that were true, I’d have to remind her I’m quite happily married.”

“Care to _announce it_ again? I think the whole of Erebor were not listening when you said so the first time,” Bilbo muttered.

“Are you sure?”

“Thorin, I don’t know how many times I’ve had to come to your rescue from men and women trying to murder me and get in your trousers!”

“Don’t worry, if they try to murder you, their heads will be on the chopping block and their beards shorn…actually I should think of something harsher. Does flaying sound good enough?”

Bilbo snorted. They did share a rather disturbing sense of humor and after Bilbo’s enthusiastic suggestion to Trolls that the best way to cook Dwarves was to skin them alive flaying had been a morbid and private joke. Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s middle, kissing his cheek.

“I’m afraid I’m madly, hopelessly in love with you. Sorry, no cheating will be done by me at any time.”

“I have a hard time believing that, but that’s just me.”

“Ye of little faith,” Thorin mumbled, resting his head on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“I’ve plenty of faith in you. I simply do not trust the court not to trick you one day.”

“Again: ye of little faith,” Thorin said. “I’m not a fool. I see how they judge you, Ghivashel. I am vigilant and I trust your judgment. Thank you, by the way, for coming to my rescue…again.”

“Of course,” Bilbo said, smiling. “And I believe that is…” he counts on his hands and feet. “I do not know. I’ve lost count and not having enough fingers and toes…”

“Let’s just say enough times that it puts me in a rather delicate position,” Thorin suggested, whispering in Bilbo’s ear. “On the one, I sometimes feel like a damsel in distress.”

“That won’t do.”

“No. It won’t. But on the other, it’s rather cute. I like the way you get them to back off. You’re like an adorable rabid rabbit.”

Bilbo groaned, elbowing Thorin in the stomach with very little force. That was Thorin’s joke and his joke alone. Well, Beorn’s too. But that was beside the point. Thorin laughed at Bilbo’s half-hearted attempt at injuring him.

“It’s getting late,” Thorin said, releasing Bilbo from his warm cocoon. Bilbo kept his face impassive, though he really did not want to be let go tonight. They left the balcony, heading back to their chambers.  The Dwarves they passed by bowed low, their beards almost, if not, touching the floor.

The smooth stone floor and intricate carvings as they passed proclaimed the majesty of Erebor in both past and present.

When they reached the door to their chambers, Thorin pushed them open, letting Bilbo step inside first before following him inside.

The door banged behind them. Bilbo was lifted in Thorin’s arms. He squeaked and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck. Thorin spun around.

“What are you doing?! Thorin stop! I’m going to—”

Thorin halted, grinning. “You’re fine.”

“Don’t be so cruel! My stomach literally _flipped_ ,” Bilbo groaned, feeling green.

Thorin walked to the bathroom, setting Bilbo down and stripping his clothes off. Bilbo did the same, staring at Thorin. His husband had a physique that (probably) made it possible for wrestling a bear, covered in dark, straight black hair all over his chest and trailing down in a thin line to his groin to become a nest of curls where his cock hung proudly between muscular thighs.

Nothing like Bilbo: pudgy, lightly muscled. Other than the top of his head, his armpits, groin, and his feet, Bilbo was rather bald in comparison to the Dwarves he interacted with. He knew this.  And he marveled still that the King himself wanted him.

Thorin held his hand out to Bilbo, who took it, letting Thorin lead him into the built in hot spring they shared. He sat down, pulling Bilbo onto his lap. Thorin kissed Bilbo deeply, hands resting lightly on Bilbo’s thighs, rubbing circles into the warming flesh. Bilbo placed both his hands on either side of Thorin’s face, thumb brushing against cheekbone and fingers stroking an ear.

Bilbo could feel Thorin writhing beneath him, noting the swelling cock rubbing against his ass. Bilbo broke the kiss, rolling his hips. Thorin groaned, nipping Bilbo’s neck as his hands moved to Bilbo’s back and down to his ass, gripping slippery flesh. Thorin pushed a finger inside, nipping and sucking at the delicate flesh. Bilbo mewled as the appendage wriggled within him. Thorin caught his lips again, sliding a second finger into Bilbo. Bilbo hissed, a slight burn pulsing through him.

He pushed down on Thorin’s fingers when he felt comfortable enough with them. Water, warm and soapy or not, was not the same as oil it seemed.

Through the groans, Bilbo could make out various words in Khuzdul—âzyung, ghivashel, mizim—terms of endearment Thorin only spoke to him. Another two words, more often in Westron than in Khuzdul (or perhaps the other way around, yet without Bilbo’s knowledge of the words) was “mine” and “yours.” Thorin could be very possessive and it wasn’t until Bilbo first pointed out to him how the nobility seemed to be trying to seduce him did he begin adding “yours” to the mix, his own way of assuring Bilbo no one else held his heart.

He also made it a habit when Bilbo was especially cross to remind him that if he didn’t care as strongly as he did for Bilbo he wouldn’t have figuratively clubbed the Hobbit over the head when Bilbo almost left to return to the Shire a year ago. True, Thorin all but threatened Bilbo to stay and forgive him, beginning a rather tense courtship. After all, one does not take up a courtship from someone who tried to kill him lightly. The tense emotions relieved after a while when Bilbo found that Thorin was doing his best to try and be civil. The effort he put into courting Bilbo was sweet and endearing. Bilbo had not thought the King would be such a romantic, but if Thorin tried he would succeed and succeed he did. Of course, Bilbo still feared Thorin might succumb to gold madness again, but he had not, did not…

He removed the Arkenstone from its place above the old throne and locked it in a very deep vault under the mountain where no one could get to it. He never went into the treasury, having Ori act as the Head of the Treasury. No one but Ori and a select few Dwarves could go inside. And if gold madness crept among anyone, they were usually secluded until the madness passed.

Thorin pushed in a third finger. “I love you, Bilbo,” he murmured, “Only you, my beautiful One.” His fingers probe around, stretching, pushing, thrusting…

Bilbo tried to muffle his moans in Thorin’s mouth. He panted, warmed by hot water and arousal. Thorin removed his fingers, to Bilbo’s dismay, and shifted to lift Bilbo out of the water and lay him on wet stone, oddly cold despite the heat of their water. Bilbo hissed at the sudden shock of temperature change. Thorin pushed Bilbo’s legs apart, lining his cock with Bilbo’s entrance, rolling his hips against him, hissing and groaning as he pushed inside, slow and easy until he was in to the hilt.

He paused, kissing Bilbo. “You are mine, I am yours. You know this. Never doubt it, âzyung.” Bilbo moaned, turning his head to the right. Thorin picked up pace, adjusting his angle just so to ram into the ball of nerves which reduced Bilbo to a screaming mess. An orgasm ripped through Bilbo. His mouth remained open in a choked, silent scream.

Covered in cum, blind with pleasure, and limp, he waited for Thorin to finish, back sliding against wet stone which mixed between cold and hot and lukewarm with each splash of water. Thorin’s release sent a jolt through Bilbo. For a moment, he felt he really had gone blind. Vision returned after a moment. Thorin rested over him, gasping. His arms shook for the strength to hold him up. Thorin pulled out and dragged Bilbo back into the water.

Bilbo hummed appreciatively, laying his head against Thorin’s breast, eyes closed. He could forget that there are countless nobles trying to steal his husband from him. He could forget he was Prince Consort and that his husband was King. He could forget about the politics and the daily skirmishes he had to worry over.

At the end of the day, they had no airs, no titles…and he could feel no doubt that his husband was his and his alone.

As it should be.


End file.
